My eyes toward my assailants, I rolled over the rough gravel over to the shelter of the nearest car.
"Just come with us. We don't want to have to kill you!" a rotund, mustached fellow in a black suit and sunglasses cried through his bull horn. I scanned the area quickly. A warehouse door 30 yards away became my intended escape route.
"That's not going to happen! I don't know who you people are and don't want to know!" My heart was pounding and my face hot. I ran and dove behind the next nearest car on my way to my intended destination. A few more shots rang out.
"Carter! Just give yourself up! We can't allow you to escape. We don't want to kill you, but it's a matter of national security!" the man yelled.
My name is Carter? I forgot, I had lost my memory. Somehow, my brain had been damaged, but my head didn't hurt. The first thing that I remember was waking up on a table surrounded by lab equipment and men in white coats. They had done something to me and my brain wasn't right because of it. How could I possibly trust them?
I eyed the next nearest car, a large, beat up pick up trick with patches of rust and exposed primer. If I just ran again, they would expect that. If I army crawled, they would surely hit me as they were closing in, as I would be an easy target moving that slowly.
I had to try something unexpected. I turned myself backward and started a series of dolphin dives, a dance move I had learned but didn't know where. Shots rang out, but it was working and none found their target. As I raised my upper body with my arms and lifted my entire body off the ground and then dove back down, my chest painfully smashing down on the gravel, the flopping motion served to dodge bullets and propel me backward simultaneously. Some of the men were laughing now. Irrelevant! I was alive.
"Carter, you look ridiculous! Let us help you!" one of them chuckled.
I then cartwheeled to the next car, followed by a hand spring and more laughter. "Carter, you're making a fool of yourself! It's not worth it!" the mustached man said.
"Forget that! I'm outa here!" I ran full speed and stopped unexpectedly, spinning on one foot, followed by jazz hands. They didn't fire a shot but instead, laughed all the harder and started throwing little rocks at me.
The jazz hands move worked! This surprisingly usefully little flourish served to deflect most of the rocks being flung at me. As an added bonus, the armed men were now laughing so hard that most were either doubled over or rolling on the ground. This was my chance. I then instinctively dipped from a deep plie' and then launched into a series of grand jete's, quickly making my way to the warehouse and escaping inside before my would-be assailants even knew I was gone!
I wondered where I had learned all of those dance movies, so fluid and graceful? I would have to worry about that later, seeing as, if I were dead, I would never know where I learned jazz hands and the dolphin dive. Somehow, I would uncover the mystery of my past, taken somehow in perhaps a military experiment of some kind.
My eyes toward my assailants, I rolled over the rough gravel over to the shelter of the nearest car.
ReplyDelete"Just come with us. We don't want to have to kill you!" a rotund, mustached fellow in a black suit and sunglasses cried through his bull horn. I scanned the area quickly. A warehouse door 30 yards away became my intended escape route.
"That's not going to happen! I don't know who you people are and don't want to know!" My heart was pounding and my face hot. I ran and dove behind the next nearest car on my way to my intended destination. A few more shots rang out.
"Carter! Just give yourself up! We can't allow you to escape. We don't want to kill you, but it's a matter of national security!" the man yelled.
My name is Carter? I forgot, I had lost my memory. Somehow, my brain had been damaged, but my head didn't hurt. The first thing that I remember was waking up on a table surrounded by lab equipment and men in white coats. They had done something to me and my brain wasn't right because of it. How could I possibly trust them?
I eyed the next nearest car, a large, beat up pick up trick with patches of rust and exposed primer. If I just ran again, they would expect that. If I army crawled, they would surely hit me as they were closing in, as I would be an easy target moving that slowly.
I had to try something unexpected. I turned myself backward and started a series of dolphin dives, a dance move I had learned but didn't know where. Shots rang out, but it was working and none found their target. As I raised my upper body with my arms and lifted my entire body off the ground and then dove back down, my chest painfully smashing down on the gravel, the flopping motion served to dodge bullets and propel me backward simultaneously. Some of the men were laughing now. Irrelevant! I was alive.
"Carter, you look ridiculous! Let us help you!" one of them chuckled.
I then cartwheeled to the next car, followed by a hand spring and more laughter. "Carter, you're making a fool of yourself! It's not worth it!" the mustached man said.
"Forget that! I'm outa here!" I ran full speed and stopped unexpectedly, spinning on one foot, followed by jazz hands. They didn't fire a shot but instead, laughed all the harder and started throwing little rocks at me.
The jazz hands move worked! This surprisingly usefully little flourish served to deflect most of the rocks being flung at me. As an added bonus, the armed men were now laughing so hard that most were either doubled over or rolling on the ground. This was my chance. I then instinctively dipped from a deep plie' and then launched into a series of grand jete's, quickly making my way to the warehouse and escaping inside before my would-be assailants even knew I was gone!
ReplyDeleteI wondered where I had learned all of those dance movies, so fluid and graceful? I would have to worry about that later, seeing as, if I were dead, I would never know where I learned jazz hands and the dolphin dive. Somehow, I would uncover the mystery of my past, taken somehow in perhaps a military experiment of some kind.
ReplyDelete